Before the Fall
by Black Waltz 0
Summary: Written for a tumblr writing prompt. Another quick drabble about mordesh Nikolai Kapuchov's ambitions, back on Grismara when everyone was still alive.


Before the Fall

By Black Waltz 0

"Niko! Nikolai!"

He heard his name being called from far down the street. He was standing on the front porch of his parents home in the morning sunlight, feeling the light and the warmth against his rich, deeply tanned skin. His folks always wanted him to swing around every so often even though he was already past thirty and had a really nice place all the way on the other side of Ateoch, but he didn't mind. He often found himself missing the old wooden home, the peace and the quiet along with the smell of dewy lush grass outside.

Nikolai stretched where he was, bending one arm behind his head and yawning as the small mordesh child bounded up to him. He was fair and pink-cheeked, a stark contrast to the man he had come to see, but Nikolai still leant over to partially equalize their heights, forearms folded behind his back. "Good morning, Daniska." He greeted, knowing the boy well. "Are you harried? Why are you in such a hurry?"

Daniska hefted the pack on his back by bouncing once on the balls of his feet. His fine hair had been brushed and parted, curling behind his long, pointed ears. He flashed a sharp-toothed grin at him. "Mother mentioned I may attend school today, but she said I should speak with you first. She said she wants to talk about business, so you must meet her in the usual place."

"For?" He asked Daniska. There were a lot of 'usual places' she could have meant.

The boy looked thoughtful for a second, trying to remember. It was hard to focus on messages when he was already so excited. "She spoke of a light lunch." He said at last.

Ah, that narrowed it down a little. Nikolai Kapuchov straightened himself up again, brushing his long, dark-brown hair out of the way. Usually his ears kept it from spilling over onto his shoulders and sometimes he braided it to keep it out of the way, but his manager had told him it didn't look professional for a city official to wear it in that manner so he'd let it all out again, just so long as he didn't have to cut it again.

He was sort of trying to see just how long it could grow. The ladies- … well, his female supporters seemed to like it a lot, too.

"Alright. Thank you, Dani." He said, patting him gently on the shoulder. He would have reached out and ruffled his hair instead, but he didn't think it would have been appreciated, especially by his mother. "Do consider caution when you head to class. You may lapse unexpectedly."

Daniska turned to leave. Everybody already knew he was very ill, something to do with his blood and how it was bad for him, but he liked to think that he could rise beyond it sometimes. Today was going to be one of those days, he was sure of it. "It's really rotten suffering sickness all the time, Niko." He explained.

Nikolai smiled in sympathy. He'd always been a very healthy mordesh all his life, with only sniffles and coughs and maybe a week or so in bed with the pix pox when he'd been just a little boy, so he probably could not understand what Daniska was going through. The world of hospital visits, of pipes and tubes and blood dialysis was an alien one to him, but he could at least empathize with his very limited experience. "I know, little one. It is, but we must persevere." He replied.

"I suppose." The child agreed with leaden hesitation, but he headed off down the road all the same. "Say hello to mother for me!"

He waved slightly. "I will."

Nikolai watched him leave, hoping alongside the boy that his day would be a seamless one. Somebody so small shouldn't have to face such suffering on their own, but he'd also heard word that the famous Doctor Lazarin was going to abolish all illness for good soon enough. The man was a genius, with a perfect track record, but frankly that day couldn't come any quicker.

And, although he did not know it then, that was the last time he saw Daniska alive.

xxx

The 'light lunch' that had been mentioned to him turned out to be a casual brunch at a quiet café somewhat close to the center of their busy town, a little open patio overlooking the hustle and bustle of Ateoch in the adolescence of the day, studded with ferns and other plants while catching the gentle breeze. Whenever they met here it was _always_ at eleven o'clock and _always_ at the same table – the same chairs – close to the creeper-laced railing.

Nikolai was dressed now in a crisp suit and cravat in anticipation of their meeting, one leg crossed over the other as he skimmed the morning paper, a cup of steaming black coffee waiting for him by his hand. Normally he wasn't really all about dressing up nice and snooty for work-related business, but he had an image to maintain now; one that along with his policies might elevate him head and shoulders above the rest.

The paper spoke only of more awkward, uncertain futures from beyond the stars. A pink, mechanical woman – mechari, he remembered the term – photographed shaking cold skeletal hands with the ambassador of Grismara. She had no face. Eerie. He had a thoughtful sip of his coffee as he stared at her visage through the ink and the paper.

"Ah, Ms. Kasavin! Always a pleasure to have you here."

"Why thank you, Pyotr. You seem well today."

He glanced up from the paper just as Ekaterine strode onto the patio and made for their table. She was as usual a vision of lithe gracefulness, her heels clicking along with her lovely long legs as she settled in the chair across from his. Her short, neatly styled hair was as dark as the coffee he was drinking but her skin was milk-white, like the creamer he hadn't bothered to use, and her smile was all sweetness, just like the sugar he'd- well, you get the idea.

"I'm pleased to see you're looking the part." She told him without any formal greetings, reaching into her handbag momentarily to switch off her datapad so they would not be disturbed by any errant messages. When she was done she placed the bag down by her feet and picked up a holo-menu instead. She gave it a pointless, cursory glance, for they had already been here enough times to know what it said.

"This ruffle is ridiculous." He replied at once with a playful smile, tugging at the fabric nestled at his neck.

"Oh Niko, you fuss more than Dani does when I dress him to go out and play." Ekaterine chuckled, languidly flipping the menu down with a flick of her wrist and wiggling it at her friend. "You are a politician now, and as I am sure we are both aware, a politician cannot be trusted to make proper decisions for themselves. That is why I am here. Besides, you look charming."

A tall mordesh waiter came and went and they both ordered without consultation, Ekaterine asking softly for a cappuccino while Nikolai finished off his own coffee. Not long afterwards they continued talking over their salads; though all Nikolai was really doing was idly pushing it around on the plate. He really would have preferred something with meat on it, but again… publicity and good personal image, right.

"How is the campaign going so far?" He asked her eventually, after chewing on a sprig of goldleaf.

Ekaterine sighed at that question, but her tidings were fair. "Everyone is earnestly playing their part and we are not missing money when it comes to fundraising. Petitioning the public is progressing perfectly too." She told him, her sigh settling down into that pleased little smile of hers again. "The mordesh of Ateoch generally seem to favor you as a friend, dear Nikolai, and they place trust in your temerity to push out policies for the greater good. Keep to this pace and you may become mayor yet."

The dark-skinned mordesh nodded at that. He'd only been a simple pencil pusher at the local bank before he'd suddenly put all this together and hired his childhood friend Ekaterine for her prim managerial skills, but he had honestly always _wanted_ to do something like this. To hold in his grasp the power to change and improve that which was mired in malaise within the city and even the _planet_ he loved, and if he was not able to mend it himself he would find those who could.

Oblivious to his ruminations Ekaterine continued as they dined. "The only issue I imagine is your suspicious stance on the Dominion." She pointed out, going grave for a moment. "I am aware that the decision to assimilate or not is nowhere near close to a choice you will have to make, but how you choose to view the empire as a mayoral candidate will impact how the people choose to see _you_."

Nikolai furrowed his handsome brow; the first dour expression he had made all day, though it was really more sulky than anything else. "I just feel like we mordesh are an accomplished people who only stand to lose part of who we are were we to join some totalitarian, conglomerate commonwealth. I know technology and the sciences would progress in leaps and bounds under Dominion tutelage, but… but… are we not doing just fine relying on our own talent and intellect? We have some of the most advanced alchemists in the _galaxy_, Eka."

Ekaterine leant over the table and patted his dusky hand in sympathy. "While that may be true, Niko, you need to concentrate primarily on what is most important. Do not let the Dominion dismay you, simply focus on your ambitions; your promises."

"Y-Yes. Yes… you're right, of course." He agreed, withdrawing his hand. She had always been the clever one. He was merely only the do-gooder – the pretty face.

And most of his promises so far, spoken over microphone and broadcast locally into televisions around the region had been about improving the quality of life for the poor and the ill. He couldn't really lie to himself and say that he hadn't been thinking about Daniska attached to his hospital bed by tubes and cables when he'd written out his manifesto for the benefit of his party, but many mordesh had risen to stand behind him at that and honestly his heart had soared with pride.

However, others were still quick to point out that Lazarin's unreleased serum was going to render Nikolai's direction a complete moot point when all sickness and death would be cured, but he had stood firm in his convictions. He had to. Nobody really knew what the future would bring.

Nobody at all.

xxx

That sunny morning on the patio of the café, with light and warm breezes streaming through as a busy world bustled about beneath them… it had been a very long time ago. The memory of a distant memory, held within the echo of a fading dream.

Grismara was dead. Billions of mordesh lay murdered across its ravaged, empty surface. Disease and pestilence hung heavy within the atmosphere and of the billions and billions of souls that had lived right up until the tipping point of the Fall only a million or so had survived. Possibly two.

Many years and much had happened since the day the corruption had burst outward from their bodies after festering within, and the Dominion who had alighted down from the heavens to become the teachers of mordeshkind now wore the mantle of their jailers instead. Their utopian world had become a prison; lost and cold and forsaken.

Yet there were some who persisted.

Heels clicked along a hallway deep underground, shrouded in darkness where the contagion could not reach. This was a safe bunker, one of many, but it was not a permanent home. Bright blue fluorescent lights lined the ceiling and illuminated pale hair, almost pink in colour and kept short, stark and close to her gnarled ears. Two other echoes followed alongside the click-click-click of the heels, made by men infested with pipes and plastic cables, holding guns. Big guns.

The corridor opened up into a room swathed in shadows, laden with supplies and artillery scavenged from the surface, fragments of a tank and a morose medbay separated by natty curtains. Soft, low-key moans and sobbing emanated from within. An equal helping of mordesh men and women staffed this sad silo of alien misery and Ekaterine Kasavin joined them, flanked by her two silent guards.

They were all dead, every one of them. Most had started to rot years, god, maybe even decades ago. It was difficult to keep track of time in a world that had already long run out of it. Metal and plastic had replaced bone and chunks of their missing flesh, skin had turned sallow and thin, and the hair of some unfortunate souls had already completely fallen out. Their insides sloshed with bitter preserving fluid; Dr. Lazarin's own blend.

They were Mordesh. It was a curse they had placed upon themselves in their moment of hubris, and the Dominion had punished them for it.

Ekaterine folded her arms and waited in dull, listless impatience for the door at the far wall to swing open with a heavy, leaden sound. A soldier she recognized wearing a sword strapped to her back led in just under half a dozen decomposing mordesh behind her, the four men and one woman seemingly unarmed but they walked with unusual fluidity, almost in perfect sync.

She approached the line-up without fear as they organized themselves wordlessly against the metal wall. Well-trained indeed. Her glowing, turquoise blue eyes scanned them all briefly for flaws. "So this troupe is destined to become our new surface anti-ravenous squad, is it?" She intoned, her voice once beautiful in life now tarnished with an artificial, metal-tinged voice modulator. Vocal chords rotted easily, so most of them all had one by now.

One of the new transfers to her left spoke, his voice rich and deep with many years of woe. "We are the Black Hoods; Reaper Enclave Delta. It will be our duty to preserve Sector Ateoch."

Far to the right Ekaterine witnessed one of the reapers move slightly out of the corner of her discerning eye, as though he had turned to look at his comrade discreetly, but she paid no mind to it. They were stalkers, not soldiers after all. She smiled wryly instead. "Enclave Delta, sometimes known as '_The Widow's Blender_'. You are not the best of the best, but you are close enough to reach out and caress her gentle cheek if you do so desire."

She chuckled at her own words and then continued the briefing. "There remains a settlement of survivors close to this facility. Your actions _vis-à-vis_ the ravenous will determine their final fate. Please, state your name and specialty and we shall soon begin."

The reaper who had already opened his mouth once responded first. "Agent Tibor, madam. Field Scout."

"Good, good. And the rest of you?" She followed them slowly down the line, keeping up with their words.

"Mesmer Vadim. Fell Reaper, information retrieval." A huge man with pupil-less, yellow eyes.

"Operative Denton. Bomb Specialist." He had no eyes. Only lenses where the sockets used to be.

"Viralist Akilina. Chemical warfare." This one was a woman, just like her. Her body was already peppered with the usual rot and various nasty acid burns.

Ekaterine reached the last man in the line. He did not speak and this threw her off her step a little, so she turned to him properly. She would have looked down on him for his disobedience were he not taller than her, but she hesitated when she realized how he was staring at her. It was with utter professional restraint and yet… yet… with sadness too. Just a tiny flicker behind his tired, grey eyes.

Regardless, she held her ground. She had not come to where she was standing now for being weak. Placing a hand on her hip, she prodded the final member of the unit again. "Name and occupation, stalker. We do not have all day. Or do you not possess a tongue?" This could have been a legitimate possibility, but she felt she would have been informed of it prior to their deployment.

For all her professionalism and order-giving, the stalker finally spoke. His voice sounded oddly, faintly familiar, but run through the tin can that was now their sound filters. "You are… Ekaterine? Ms. Kasavin?" He inquired.

She could not stop herself from hesitating, but it didn't surprise her much. Many mordesh survivors knew her name by now, especially the small number of non-ravenous she had managed to keep from dropping further still. "You are correct. I am designated to be your dispatch for your brief, pleasant stay here in Sector Ateoch." She informed him.

Mentioning that name had the desired effect she had witnessed before from the boundary of her peripheral vision. He seemed to react to that, but only subtly. Perhaps he had not been informed of the name of the place he was being sent to protect.

But still, like his voice there was something disturbingly familiar about him. The shape of his face, his cheekbones, the turn of his still-intact nose…

Had they met somewhere before?

And, as though in answer, the mordesh bowed his head to her and answered again. Every word seemed like a struggle against interior programming. "I have… been waiting for this. Did we not have… such ambitions… back in the daylight, Eka?"

Eka. Eka. Few people had called her that in the dreamstate before the Fall, and _none_ in the dark despair of their pestilence. Dear husband Andrei, dead in the soil but spared from the pain of her people by an early death. Nikolai of the pure of heart and silly neck ruffles. Daniska-

Her lovely blue eyes widened in shock for all to see. Daniska! Her baby boy! Could it be? Could he have survived, grown into a man without her knowing, and-

No. He was dead, just a number amidst billions more. She had held his lifeless body to her breast herself.

She had sobbed and wailed with her hands around his throat, squeezing the ravenous life out of him for love. Out of love. Because she'd loved him still.

But the more she studied this man with the familiar features and corrupted purple, almost black skin, with white synthetic hair that looked out of place on him… he could have been very handsome once, a long time ago. The way he'd called her Eka, their ambitions for a better world… for Dani…

Ekaterine understood. Impossible! She had searched for him! She'd thought he was dead!

"_Nikol_-" She'd started to say.

He held up his hands in a harsh warding gesture, as stern and resolved now as Ekaterine had been moments earlier. It was an expression she would have never thought to see on his once kind face. "No." He ordered, his words falling like a leaden stone. "There is no 'Nikolai' now. That man is gone. He perished an age ago of his own foolishness. I am but what remains."

He bowed slightly, perhaps almost cruelly to his old friend.

"I am Agent Formaldehyde, Harrower of Enclave Delta. Execution specialist." He said.

_-fin_


End file.
